


Blood and Teeth and a String of Mistakes

by within_a_dream



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, d/s dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 01:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5144756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/pseuds/within_a_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First they were friends. Then they were friends who kissed. Then they were something else entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood and Teeth and a String of Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jouissant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jouissant/gifts).



It started off as an accident, more or less. Just one long string of accidents, growing into a pattern and a relationship and a rut neither of them could get out of.  That wasn’t the best way to explain it, but it was the only way Gansey knew how. He took care of Ronan; he always had.

One night, after too little sleep and too much beer, Gansey asked Ronan, “What’s it like? To be gay, I mean.” This wasn’t the kind of thing they talked about, but Gansey was too tired and too drunk to care.

Ronan opened his mouth, then closed it again without saying anything. Gansey realized just how close they were, how he could feel Ronan’s breath on his face, and he wondered how he hadn’t noticed before. Then Ronan said, “It’s like this,” and they were kissing.

Everything was electric. The world narrowed to the buzz of Ronan’s lips against Gansey’s and the points of Ronan’s fingers against Gansey’s scalp, and Gansey thought the sparks of pleasure might set him aflame.

Ronan leaned forward and slid a hand under Gansey’s shirt, and oh, Gansey was sure he was making too much noise but he couldn’t even begin to care.

It went on like that for what felt like hours, Gansey wrapped up in Ronan and feeling simultaneously desperately aroused and blissfully calm. He could have kissed Ronan forever.

Ronan, apparently, wanted to move things along. He let a hand drag across Gansey’s waistband. “It’s not a sleepover unless someone gets off.”

“Would you—are you—”

Ronan silenced Gansey with another kiss. “Shut up and let me give you a hand job already, Dick.”

Gansey was going to protest, until he realized just how much better Ronan jerking him off felt than jerking himself off. He went back to kissing Ronan, and hoped he didn’t sound like too much of an idiot.

He bit down on Ronan’s lip when he came, but Ronan didn’t seem to mind.

“Was that all right?”

All Gansey could think to say was, “Wow.”

Ronan snorted in laughter. “Oh my god, Gansey. ‘Gee willickers, that sure was great!’”

“I don’t sound _that_ bad!”

“You’re a fucking dork. I feel like I should be shoving you into a locker.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” Ronan’s smirk was infuriating, and Gansey took his challenge perhaps a bit more seriously than a sexy _Make me_ should have been taken.

It didn’t occur to him until afterwards that Ronan might have been letting him win, that there was no way in hell Gansey could take Ronan Lynch down unless Ronan wanted him to. In the heat of the moment, he wanted to win. So he tackled Ronan to the bed, and pinned him down, and it took him a moment to realize that Ronan’s gasp was one of pleasure rather than pain.

He bit Ronan’s shoulder, making him gasp. He pinned Ronan’s hands above his head, and traced a fingernail down his chest, and Ronan stopped saying anything, just staring up at Gansey with this unfocused and blissful expression on his face.

It was a thrill, figuring out how far he could go. Here was Ronan, more than just tolerating Gansey’s roughness—reveling in it. A voice at the back of his head was saying, _You should talk about this_ , but Gansey pushed it aside and dragged his fingernails down Ronan’s stomach.

Ronan bit down on his hand to keep from shouting, and the desperation in his eyes went straight to Gansey’s dick. His other hand drifted between his legs, but Gansey pinned it to the bed.

“Not yet.”

And Ronan _listened_ , laying his hand back by his side and murmuring an apology. Gansey smiled, and wrapped his own hand around Ronan’s dick.

It didn’t take long for him to come. After that, the tension between them broke, and they were just two boys again, laughing and slightly sticky.

 

They went on like that, sneaking away for rough kisses and the occasional handjob. Slowly, things grew.

Ronan had a habit of begging Gansey to hit him. And when he asked so nicely, how could Gansey say no? He felt guilty about the marks later, and he was careful not to leave them where they would show under Ronan’s uniform, but when they were together his qualms seemed silly. Ronan liked it, and Gansey liked it, and they were both careful. He told himself he’d say no if Ronan seemed to upset to be thinking logically that night. He was careful, and it was a calculated risk, and maybe it was stupid to assume that things wouldn’t go wrong (because with Ronan, things _always_ went wrong), but Gansey didn’t think he was to blame for what happened next.

 

Gansey almost hadn’t left his phone on that night. That was his first thought when the buzzing woke him up at 3 am. He nearly hung up, until he saw Ronan’s name on the screen.

“You should come pick me up.” He was out of breath, a little panicked, and suddenly Gansey was all too awake.

“What happened? Where are you?”

“That bar, outside of town. The one with the burned-out sign.” Ronan laughed a little bit, but it didn’t ease Gansey’s worry. “I’ve had a run-in with the locals.”

The road out of town had never seemed longer. Gansey squealed into the parking lot, drawing glares from a few of the people loitering outside.

Ronan was leaning against the wall just inside the door. He had a too-familiar look on his face, dazed and a little aroused. This was _wrong_ , this was—that was meant for _Gansey_ , not some mob of small-town thugs.

“What did you do?” His voice sounded frightening, even to himself: cold and harsh and liable to shatter at any moment. But Ronan grinned wider, showing sharp white teeth.

“It’s not hard to pick a fight around here, Dick.” He brushed a drop of bloody sweat off of his face. “I thought you’d be pleased. You like how I look with bruises, don’t you?”

“This isn’t that!” Ronan heard the desperation, Gansey was sure—it would be impossible not to. Gansey drew a shuddering breath. “This is _real_ , this is dangerous, you could get yourself fucking killed.” Part of him wanted to hiss, _I’m the only one allowed to hurt you_ , wanted to pin Ronan to the bar’s filthy wall and bite him hard enough to draw more blood from his split lip. But this wasn’t a _game_.

“What’s it to you what I do with myself?”

Gansey couldn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t risk getting a hard-on at the thought of breaking Ronan like those men had broken him. “Go home. _Yours_ , not mine. I’m done.”

 

It was a week before Ronan slunk back, tail between his legs, and another four days before Gansey would look at him. It might have been longer, had Ronan not cornered Gansey after school and shoved him up against the wall.

“Fucking talk to me!”

“I’ve already told you: I’m done.” Gansey adjusted his glasses, hoping he looked more composed than he felt.  “If you’re going to throw your life away picking fights with idiots, that’s fine. I’m not going to watch you do it. You don’t get to call me, kiss me with blood in your mouth, tell me you know I like how you look with bruises—” Well, the composure was a lost cause.

“Some of us have lives outside of our parents’ marble towers, Gansey.”

“And some of us care about our friends.” Gansey pinned Ronan to the wall, smiling a small and sharp-toothed sort of smile. “They don’t get to hurt you, all right? That’s my job.”

Ronan was dead silent, arching ever so slightly into Gansey’s grips on his wrists. Gansey nipped at his earlobe.

“You’re mine, all right?” Gansey couldn’t shake the feeling that with those words, he was only digging himself deeper into a hole he’d tried so hard to avoid. Worse, he wasn’t sure he cared anymore.

“If you don’t want to have sex outside Aglionby, you might want to stop,” Ronan said, breathless.

Gansey didn’t care about that either.


End file.
